


Pieces of me

by Sans_Comics



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: I know, I'm evil, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:44:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Comics/pseuds/Sans_Comics
Summary: Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley were any good at dancing but maybe there was something else they could do.





	Pieces of me

**Author's Note:**

> The song is called Pieces of me by aviators.  
> I'm pretty sure there aren't any warnings that apply but if you think of any please tell me.

The old bookshop was filled with silence. Having been closed for most of the day since Aziraphale wasn’t feeling up to dealing with humans today, it was no surprise really. Aziraphale was reading peacefully in his backroom, the fire burned brightly as it was late and winter was just coming around. The snow falling outside the windows was more than enough proof of that. He expected Crowley would have appeared earlier since he wasn’t keen on the cold weather and his apartment was always cold. At least, that was his excuse. Aziraphale never mentioned the fact he could just turn up the heating even if he was sure the demon already knew.

The quiet ring of the bell over the entrance caused him to smile as Crowley made his way to the backroom. As soon as he entered, he shivered and rubbed his hands to warm them up. He smiled back at Aziraphale as a quick greeting and removed his sunglasses to throw them on the small coffee table, likely to not leave that place until he left. Aziraphale looked up and noticed Crowley had something under one of his arms. He waited for Crowley to settle down and mention it since he rarely brought something new to the bookshop that wasn’t food.

After a few minutes of Crowley just warming up by the fire, he finally took the item in his hands. He flipped it over in his hands, trying to think how to bring it up. “Do you mind if I play something, angel?” Aziraphale looked up from his book and saw that the item was a record, very new from what he could tell. “Is it modern?” Aziraphale didn’t complain often about humans changing things but their taste in music had definitely gone down over the past few decades. This was something Crowley already knew. “Yes. But it’s not bebop.” He quickly adds the second part when Aziraphale sighed and gave him a look. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what bebop was, but he knew Aziraphale didn’t listen to it. “Is it Queen?” “No.” “Is it loud?” “No.” “Is it electric?” “No.” “Is it-” “Angel, I promise you will like it.” He knew they’d be there for ages if he let Aziraphale keep asking questions. His angel sighed again but nodded and gestured to the record player. Crowley immediately jumped up and put the record on before Aziraphale could change his mind.

A soft playing of a piano came out of the speaker, drowning out the silence. It was different from what Aziraphale expected but it was pleasant. Then the lyrics came pouring out.

_Looking and waiting_

_For a chance to shine_

_Fighting, concealing_

_These demons of mine_

_I'm innocent but I'm hardly a saint_

_Fighting and living without a complaint_

Aziraphale sighed and looked up at Crowley who was leaning against the table the record player sat on. While Aziraphale always enjoyed subtle mentions of their... heritage, Crowley would always smirk when humans mentioned anything about demons and angels. He never commented on it but it was always obvious.

_Feeling those feelings_

_That I can't ignore_

_Like whatever I try_

_Will be worse than before_

_I want to break free but I'm bound to burn out_

_And that's the idea still filling me with doubt_

This time though he wasn’t smirking. Instead, a small smile was placed on his lips as he listened to the music. Aziraphale placed his book open down on his lap, listening to the lyrics. Crowley wasn’t just playing some dumb song he found.

I've got a fear of failure 

And fear of the dark 

How am I supposed to find a new start? 

Maybe perfection is too high a goal 

Maybe the answer's buried in my soul 

The singer was so soft and gentle with their lyrics. As if every word they spoke might break as it slipped from their mouth. They weren’t just screaming nonsense about how society sucked. They weren’t quietly singing about that one crush they had that one time. They treated each word like its own person with an emotion that Aziraphale could understand perfectly.

_I, I could dare to stand tall_

_If it means I could fall_

_To conquer it all_

_I believe I'm something_

_More than a drop in the sea_

_Because I hope you'll believe_

_The pieces of me_

_Are broken but there are beautiful things they could be_

Some drums joined the piano in the instrumental, just as quiet and soft as the piano. Afraid to drown out its notes and stop it from being heard. He leaned back comfortably as the chorus escaped the speakers. He closed his eyes and listened to the lyrics. After the chorus was over, the drums silenced themselves to allow the piano to speak for itself but joined back in when the singer continued.

_Breaking in pieces_

_That I can't repair_

_Cracks and light scratches_

_From times I got scared_

_I ran away but I'm running right back_

_I opened my eyes before my world turned black_

Aziraphale opened his eyes when he heard movement beside him. Turning to where Crowley had been standing only to find him closer, holding his hand out. He wasn’t looking at the angel but had his head turned to the side, ready to be rejected. Aziraphale smiled a little and put his book on a table next to him before taking Crowley’s hand.

_I'm not all useless_

_I'm just a bit used_

_I'll take the chances_

_That others refused_

_I'm building something inside of my heart_

_A flawlessly flawed and simple work of art_

They moved to a clearer more open part of the backroom, though that didn’t really mean much since the whole place was littered with books. Holding each other’s hands, they swayed awkwardly with the music. Neither were any good at dancing. Unless it was the gavotte or a dad dance off, they were useless. Dancing to something as soft as this needed a certain feeling that neither were sure how to convey.

_I've got a fear of failure_

_And fear of the dark_

_How am I supposed to find a new start?_

_Maybe perfection is too high a goal_

_Maybe the answer's buried in my soul_

For now, swaying was good. Especially since neither knew where to look. Aziraphale mostly looked at the ground to the side but would glance up at Crowley every now and then. Crowley’s eyes couldn’t focus on anything, not wanting to make his angel uncomfortable by staring at him but feeling weird for looking off at some random set of books. At some point they had looked at each other at the same time and their eyes were locked on one another.

_I, I could dare to stand tall_

_If it means I could fall_

_To conquer it all_

_I believe I'm something_

_More than a drop in the sea_

_Because I hope you'll believe_

_The pieces of me_

_Are broken but there are beautiful things they could be_

Crowley’s snake eyes had always been strangely beautiful to Aziraphale. While angels were meant to be these great beautiful celestial beings, he was sure that Crowley’s eyes before he fell were nothing compared to what they were now. Crowley stared into Aziraphale’s brown eyes. They were just brown; not hazel, or chocolate or whatever else you could call it. They were just a simple wonderfully ordinary brown.

_I tripped_

_I fell_

_My plan didn't work out so well_

_But I don't want_

_To give up right here_

They moved closer. Their bodies touching fully. Crowley placed his hands on Aziraphale’s waist. He was bigger than the average man. A fact he was sure the archangels took great pride in pointing out. No. He wouldn’t let them ruin this moment. Aziraphale’s hands went around his shoulders, holding the back of his neck, his thumb rubbing his skin gently. And yet they got closer.

_I know_

_The cost_

_But I believe not all is lost_

_There's still a chance_

_To make me appear_

Leaning forward, Crowley connected their foreheads. The touch seemed to set something off. Aziraphale gasped and closed his eyes at the feeling. No longer being watched, Crowley let his eyes wander over his angel’s face, his gaze lingering on different areas as he waited for his angel to catch up. When he finally opened his eyes, they were lidded, only half open and doing something a being of god should not do. Crowley’s breath got caught in his throat.

_I, I could dare to stand tall_

_If it means I could fall_

_To conquer it all_

_I believe I'm something_

_More than a drop in the sea_

_Because I hope you'll believe_

_The pieces of me_

_Are broken but there are beautiful things they could_

Somehow they moved closer. Leaning a little more forward, their noses touched. It was soft and delicate but almost caused Aziraphale to flinch back. It was only the tips of their noses touching. Then they moved closer still and the sides were brushing against one another.

_I, I could dare to stand tall_

_If it means I could fall_

_To conquer it all_

_I believe I'm something_

_More than a drop in the sea_

_Because I hope you'll believe_

_The pieces of me_

_Are broken but there are beautiful things they could be_

The singer had stopped and the piano played softly for a few more seconds on its own before slowly fading away. The room was in silence again but it wasn’t as peaceful as before. Staring at each other’s eyes for a moment longer, Crowley closed them and waited for Aziraphale. He may have started this but his angel would be the one to finish it. They were mere inches apart. Warm breath fanning over his face, the wait would be worth it. His flawlessly flawed angel moved closer and closer until...

The record scratched.

They were thrown back into the real world by the loud noise and jumped away from each other. The sudden noise then silence seemed to bring them back to the bookshop. Back to the cold world. Back to the fire that was almost completely out. Back to jobs and expectations. Back to archangels and lords of the damned. Back to being an angel and a demon.

Aziraphale turned around to see the stylus had jumped off the turntable and the record now spinning aimlessly with no music. He sighed and shook his head, his back facing Crowley. He walked to the record player and lifted the record off the turntable. Holding the record carefully, he walked back to Crowley, his fingers tracing the small grooves as he held it up. “Well, that was beautiful. I’m glad you showed it to me. And... I did enjoy this (really, I did) but...” His voice was quiet, louder than a whisper sure but only just. His breath was slow and deliberate, reminding himself that his body should breathe. He holds out the record for Crowley to take. The demon shakily took back the record from the angel, his hand brushing the angel’s before he flinched away placing them behind him, away from the demon. The angel smiled sadly and looked at the ground not wanting to meet the demon’s gaze. “Maybe we shouldn’t dance.” 

“R-right.”


End file.
